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“Beveryspecific,” I commanded again.
Vicky leaned closer so only I’d hear her reply. “I’m going to suck your dick all the way home.”
I pulled backward so my gaze could meet hers. “The Ferrari’s around the corner.”
“Perfect.” She signaled for the bartender, who was steps away taking the order from a couple I didn’t recognize. “Check please.”
My royal blue Ferrari F8 Spider was at the valet stand less than ten minutes later, and I’d barely driven down the street before Vicky launched herself across the console, fumbling for the zipper on my black dress pants as she did. Her mouth settled on my cock as I turned the car onto North County Road. It was only a ten-minute drive from the restaurant to my mansion, but that was enough to enjoy the skilled maneuverings of her lips and tongue as she licked, sucked, and enjoyed my manhood.
But I didn’t come.
Not that I couldn’t have. I just didn’t want to.
Vicky lifted her head from my lap when we arrived at the wrought iron gate dividing my property from the street. “Boo. Home so soon.”
I tapped the garage door opener and glanced at her shapely body, which was illuminated by the track lights on my driveway. “Doesn’t mean our night has to end.”
“Good.” She smiled, took my hand from the steering wheel, and placed it between her legs. She didn’t have any underwear on beneath her billowing black skirt and her slit was already slick. We’d fucked enough times for her to know that was how I liked things, and my dick twitched in response to the confirmation she was ready and more than willing. “You want it here or inside?”
“Inside,” I murmured, slowing so I could park in the open spot of the three-car garage, right in between my silver Mercedes G-Wagon and the black Bentley GTC Azure I drove to business meetings. The Spider was a fun car, but I didn’t like to take it out much. I took my hand from her crotch, put the car in park, and turned off the engine. Judging from the warmth I’d felt, we were going to be in for a long, satisfying night. "When we get in, I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll barely be able to walk tomorrow.”
“That’s why I like you, honey.” She grinned, a hazy, lustful look in her eyes, one as familiar to me as the rest of her body. She was going to let me do whatever I wanted, and for however long I wanted. “I wouldn’t want to have it any other way.”
I smiled back at her in the dim light. No, I didn’t love Vicky, and I didn’t particularly like her either. But at least she offered me her time and her pleasure; there were worse things in life than that. She’d make sure the night was less lonely, and that had a purpose.
She’d also make me stop thinking about Rebecca Owens, who’d been on my mind since the afternoon, when I’d spent most of the plane ride to Palm Beach sorting through photos of her online and reading her old posts on Chatter. Rebecca was the opposite of Vicky in every way—a plain kind of woman who didn’t wear much makeup and favored cardigan sweaters to sculpted dresses. But there was also something almostinnocentabout Rebecca in every one of her photos, as if she was unaware of her natural beauty or the way she might have power over a man.
Vicky, on the other hand, wasveryaware of her own power.
“Come on,” Vicky said. “Let’s go inside so you can screw me on the kitchen table.”
It was a command no man could ever have resisted.
CHAPTER FIVE
REBECCA
